


killers and saviors

by 100demons



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2670326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“As I’m sure you’ll understand, as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to prefer intimacy.” Kakashi’s voice was bone-dry and as sharp as a whip. “If I wanted to kill you, if I <i>had</i> to kill you, I would rather use my own hands. I always thought that the Sandaime’s greatest mistake had been in letting Orochimaru leave Konoha alive. I won’t let you be mine.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	killers and saviors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deiectus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deiectus/gifts).



He bent down and placed the crate on the ground, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the corner of a sleeve. “You can come in, you know.”

The shadow in the narrow crack between the door and lintel flickered for a brief moment, like a guttering candle flame in the wind, before fading away to reveal the form of a long thin man, dressed in grey and green.

“It’s been a while, Kabuto,” Kakashi said, leaning against the wall, with his hands shoved casually in his pockets. 

“Please wipe your feet,” Kabuto said and turned his back to him, deliberately. “I’m afraid the only thing I have to drink is water.”

He moved over to the other side of the small wooden lodge and dug through his knapsack to pull out two battered canteens, cold and beaded with water. They were standard-issue during the war. 

“And the only seat I have is the floor.” Kabuto gestured at the firepit in the middle of the room, and his sleeping bag by its side.

Kakashi looked at him silently, arms crossed over his chest, the long length of his body swathed in darkness. It was strange, to see him with both eyes fully revealed, flesh pale against the black of his mask. No Sharingan, and yet Kabuto still felt the slight tremor in his pulse at the sight of Kakashi’s naked left eye.

“Or you could stand in the corner like a stranger. I thought we were a little more familiar than that.” Kabuto licked his lips and crouched by the fire, canteens hanging from his wrist. 

“Only just,” Kakashi said, and there was a ghost of something behind the broad expanse of his mask. A slight rustle of cloth and in the narrow space between one heartbeat and the other, Kakashi appeared cross-legged across the fire, lounging as if he’d been there all along.

Kabuto hid his flinch with a careless toss of his head and threw the canteen at Kakashi. “If I had known the Hokage was going to drop by, I’d have at least cleaned up a little. The floor’s a little dusty.”

There was no answer as Kakashi flicked the cap off the canteen and raised it up to his nose. He sniffed it.

Kabuto said nothing, squelching the defensive anger rising up in him. He couldn’t argue that the Hokage had little reason to question it, but the back of his mouth felt bitter.

“If I wanted to kill you, I’d use a knife,” Kabuto needled, his resolve shattering. “Much more personal than poison.”

“You’re as mouthy as ever,” Kakashi noted dryly, and spilled a bit of water on the dirt floor, watching it slowly sink in. “Last week, my guards stopped an attempt by a fanatic claiming to bring honor to the Daimyou. The month before that, it was my imported tea, contaminated with a nearly traceless poison.” 

He looked up at Kabuto and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I’ve never been the target of such enthusiasm before. I’m not allowed to eat anything without my personal taste tester by my side, and a guard following me even while I shit.”

“But not here?” Kabuto strained his senses to their limits and found only two restrained chakra signatures floating at the edges. If there were any in his cabin, they were skillfully hidden.

Kakashi smiled, the material of his mask shifting with the motion. “Not here,” he confirmed and raised the canteen to his lips.

“Oh,” Kabuto said, watching Kakashi drink, muscles of his throat illuminated by the dim firelight. 

“Well, I’ll suppose we’ll both know in a few days.” Kakashi tossed the empty canteen in the air and Kabuto caught it automatically. “I’m lucky to have a successor lined up.” 

“I’m not sure whether it is you trust me, which even I think is stupid, or if you think you’re more than enough to take me on by yourself, poisoned or not, which is an overestimation of your abilities without the Sharingan.” 

“Brat,” Kakashi said without any heat, leaning back on his hands. “I could beat you with one arm tied behind my back.”

“We never did finish our first fight,” Kabuto said, quiet. “Is that why you’re here?”

“If I had to,” Kakashi said and the room suddenly grew cold, firelight flickering in a non-existent breeze. 

Kabuto shivered, and suddenly wished for something to cover the bare skin of his neck, rippling with gooseflesh.

“Intel’s been keeping an eye on you. Every so often, you’d fall off the map but not for too long. And we’d always send men to follow up and back track, figure out if you managed to build anything of significance. Everything was quiet, until this past spring. You bought a plot of land in the Land of Iron under an alias and began moving large amounts of medical equipment, stealing cash, disappearing for longer and longer times, losing our trackers. My men grew concerned.”

Kabuto swallowed, throat suddenly dry. He unscrewed the cap off his canteen slowly, carefully. He hated the fact that he was grateful he hadn’t spilled any water on the floor.

“Is that why you’re here?” he asked lightly. “You could have just sent a team of ANBU to eliminate me.”

“As I’m sure you’ll understand, as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to prefer intimacy.” Kakashi’s voice was bone-dry and as sharp as a whip. “If I wanted to kill you, if I _had_ to kill you, I would rather use my own hands. I always thought that the Sandaime’s greatest mistake had been in letting Orochimaru leave Konoha alive. I won’t let you be mine.”

Kabuto studied the beaten tin side of his metal canteen, marked with the symbol of the United Shinobi force and inscribed with the name of a dead soldier. Kabuto wondered at whose undead hands Yamashiro Kouji had died at, which shinobi Kabuto had resurrected, had raised his sword in one last killing stroke to end Yamashiro Kouji’s life. He wondered if Kouji had left any family behind.

Kabuto wondered how many orphans he had helped make that day.

“I always regretted not being able to collect a sample of your genetic material,” Kabuto laughed and set the canteen by his side, gently. 

The room grew even colder, tinged with the smell of ozone. 

“Probably not the best thing I could have said, considering the circumstances.” Kabuto shook his head, taking off his glasses and placing them by his canteen. “I think you and your men will be glad to hear I’m not planning to revive Orochimaru’s old work.”

“Oh?” Kakashi asked, his voice silky smooth.

“I want to build a small clinic,” Kabuto said and he looked straight at Kakashi’s eyes. “I want to build an orphanage with the funds from the clinic and take in the orphans of the last war.”

Kakashi blinked.

“I can’t tell if this is another terrible joke or if you’re being serious,” Kakashi said finally.

“More than I’ve ever been in my life.” Kabuto picked up his glasses, tracing the metal frame with the tip of his finger.

“I’m an orphan of the Third Shinobi war. Or so they tell me.” He polished the glass with the edge of his sleeve. “I don’t remember much before being found and named.” 

“And you want to…? Repent for your mistakes? Care for others in the same position as you? We’re killers, not saviors. You can’t pay for all the blood you’ve shed with this.” Kakashi suddenly looked very old, the jagged line of his scar stark in the firelight. “You carry that with you your whole life.”

“I know,” Kabuto said and put his glasses back on. The lenses were pure glass; he’d stopped needing them after one body modification had fixed his eyesight. “But I was taught how to heal in an orphanage, by someone who was once a ninja, and spent the rest of her life trying to save children she killed in a past life.”

He looked up at Kakashi and smiled. “That’s the kind of person I hope one day I could be like. I’m still only twenty-four. Some civilians consider that to be pretty young.”

Kakashi tilted his head, face unreadable. “Hm. Maybe you did grow up a little since we first met.” He got up from his feet in one smooth motion, cat-like. Kabuto had a vague impression of a flutter of white and red fabric in the corner of his eyes before it disappeared, leaving Kakashi clad in solid ANBU blacks and worn leather. 

“Let’s keep that fight unfinished for a while yet.” Kakashi stuck his hand out.

Kabuto scrambled up to his feet and after a moment of hesitation, grabbed the hand.

Kakashi pulled Kabuto close to his chest, a razor edge pressed against the naked skin of his throat. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’d rather not come here again.”

Kabuto gave him a smile, showing the pointed edges of his teeth. “I’ll make sure to have tea next time,” he said, his hand over Kakashi’s heart, and curling with dormant chakra. 

Kakashi laughed, warm breath ghosting over the shell of Kabuto’s ear. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said and vanished.

Kabuto pressed a hand against his throat, feeling the last bit of Kakashi’s heat fade away, before that too disappeared into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> for the lovely deiectus


End file.
